CHAPTER 074
Imperial Palace Guest Room
The door to the guest room reception opened and then closed firmly.
"Your Majesty."
The Emperor stood before the door, casting a long shadow on the marble floor, and took in the sight of Arabelle, who greeted him cheerfully by name.
Her honest face, unable to hide her excitement, flushed pink as she quickly crossed the wide reception room to him.
Just a few steps away, Arabelle suddenly remembered the etiquette lessons she had heard that morning and stopped abruptly.
Her wide eyes momentarily wandered, unsure of what to do, before she bowed her head.
Holding the hem of her emerald velvet dress skirt between her fingers, she slightly bowed her head and waist, greeting the Emperor with decorum.
The dignity of the royal family, etiquette, and propriety.
These were the lessons Arabelle had been hearing all morning.
"The Emperor and Empress must always maintain a proper distance between them. Public displays of affection, such as holding hands or whispering to each other, are absolutely unacceptable. The royal family must be a model for the people of the Empire."
These were the repeated words of Baroness Rosalind, the chief aide of the Imperial Social Events Department, who had taught imperial etiquette to the Dowager Empress from the Kingdom of Seville, as well as Maxwell's mother, the Crown Princess, who had entered the palace at twenty.
The Baroness often lamented the moral decline of society, particularly the fact that young noblemen and women now dated in parks without chaperones.
She was a strict traditionalist who, for instance, had excluded a young lady's name from the next imperial social tea time invitation because she didn't wear gloves at a picnic, not caring about others' opinions.
"Now, Lady Arabelle, you are a role model for the people of the Empire, especially young women. The food you eat, the clothes you wear, the jewelry you choose, the books you read—all these things will set trends not only in the Empire but across the continent."
Role model. Trendsetter.
Baroness Rosalind, who had approached Arabelle, who sat dazed by these words that seemed so unlike her, explained further.
"Especially for a young Empress, every action must be taken with care. Your behavior, tone, gestures, and expressions will all be scrutinized, evaluated, and reinterpreted. Even if unintentional, you will often be misunderstood and criticized."
Leaning towards the diligently note-taking Arabelle, Baroness Rosalind whispered so that no one else could hear.
"Remember, there will always be those who covet your position, even after you become Empress. The throne's owner can never be replaced, but attempting to replace the Empress is not considered treason. Trust no one in this place. Not even me."
Arabelle looked up at the Baroness with wide eyes, but the Baroness, as if she had said nothing, resumed the lesson with a solemn expression.
"Even in private with just the two of you, proper etiquette must be observed to avoid mistakes in public."
Remembering the strict expression of Baroness Rosalind, Arabelle greeted the Emperor cautiously, maintaining a respectful distance.
Her heart was racing with excitement, but she stood in the pose she had practiced for half a day to maintain the 'dignity' of the future Empress.
Her neck was elegantly lifted as if someone was pulling it upward, her shoulders straight but not thrust forward. Her back had to be straight, with her lower abdomen tightened and her pelvis very slightly pushed forward, standing with her heels together in a fan shape. Her clasped hands rested just above her navel.
Realizing her hand position had shifted, Arabelle quickly placed her right hand over her left. She looked at the Emperor, trying to suppress the smile that was about to break out, to maintain the 'dignity' of the future Empress.
The Emperor's hair, still half-wet from a bath, glistened in the afternoon sunlight.
His face, deeply shadowed by the sunlight, showed no expression as he faced Arabelle.
To others, his red eyes might seem cold and harsh, but when they looked at Arabelle, they were warm, glowing like rubies.
But now, his red eyes seemed deeply shadowed, gazing at her.
Arabelle, finding the Emperor's silent, unmoving presence unfamiliar, quietly spoke up.
"Your Majesty, would you like to have tea with me?"
The Imperial Social Events Department had sent over more than twenty different teas, along with matching desserts, in preparation for a lesson on tea etiquette the next day.
They had summarized information about each tea's origin, flavor, the best time of day to drink it, the appropriate teacups, and even which fabric of dress would pair well with it, providing over ten pages of information and knowledge per tea.
Feeling as if a thick, invisible wall had sprung up between them, Arabelle forced a bright tone into her voice.
"The whipped cream peach cake was... so delicious that I ate it all before even drinking the tea... *gasp*...!"
Startled by the Emperor's silence, Arabelle was speaking with her head bowed when suddenly her feet left the ground, and she was lifted into the air.
Unable to exhale the breath she had gasped in, she looked into the red eyes that were now at eye level with hers.
The Emperor had approached her in long strides, grabbed her back and waist with both hands and lifted her straight up.
His arms closed tightly around her slender body, pressing her against his, leaving no gap.
In the center of the deep red eyes, which had been overshadowed, a golden ring spread outward like a volcanic eruption, staring at her with a gaze so intense it felt like it could burn her clear eyes.
The mere sight of him made her skin tingle, raising goosebumps on her arms.
The Emperor cradled the back of her head in his large hand, seemingly intent on ensuring her gaze could hold nothing but him.
It was an unnecessary worry. Already consumed by the flames, Arabelle's gaze contained nothing else. No, it couldn't.
Even in a crowd of thousands, she was sure she could find him instantly.
When he was with her, everything around them, except for him, became blurry like a watercolor painting soaked with water.
Arabelle's slender arms slowly and shyly wrapped around his neck. The emperor's hand, which had been supporting her small head, tilted back, causing Arabelle's head to tilt up as well.
Unable to control his burning thirst, the emperor's lips instantly covered her pink lips, exhaling a breath.
The red lips, having taken over the soft lips, bit into the plump lower lip, splitting them and claiming everything without leaving any space.
The intense happenings inside the small lips filled the drawing room.
There was no time to be embarrassed by the 'indecent' and sticky sounds of mingled breaths and intertwined flesh that Baroness Rosalind had mentioned.
The emperor's kiss was unusually hot, urgent, and persistent.
The fire spreading from within Arabelle's mouth traveled up her spine, igniting heat in an unknown place.
It was a stimulus that awakened each cell, causing embarrassing sounds to escape her lips and electricity to run up to her little toes, making her twist her waist.
Her sensitive skin trembled even at the light touch of the emperor's fingers.
Her slender body, unable to get used to the stimulation he gave, eventually weakened in the emperor's arms.
Frightened by the feeling that her body was no longer her own, but not wanting to part from him, Arabelle's arms tightened around the emperor's neck.
Sensing that Arabelle wanted him too, a beast-like growl from the emperor's throat spread into her small mouth.
As if he would go mad if he didn't taste the sweet dew right now, the emperor's desperation was palpable in each touch of his fingertips.
When their lips finally parted, the silver thread connecting them shimmered in the air before breaking.
His dark red eyes looked blatantly at her wet lips gasping for air.
As if his thirst had started again, his tongue swept over his red lower lip.
Focusing his gaze on her eyes, heated with innocence, the emperor spoke. His deep and heavy voice echoed in her ears.
"Promise me. Promise that you will never leave my side. No matter what happens, you will stay by my side."
It was a command, but it sounded like a desperate plea.
The strongest man in the world was begging her never to leave his side, no matter what happened, and it made Arabelle's heartache.
Meeting his gaze with sincere eyes, Arabelle answered unwaveringly.
"I promise. I will never leave Your Majesty's side. No matter what happens, I will stay by Your Majesty."
The indescribable emotion in his eyes finally softened into a smile. The emperor lowered his head again, raining soft and delicate kisses on Arabelle's face, unlike before.
***
The residence of Jacob, the captain of the emperor's first guard.
"If that's true... what will happen to the Heltered Empire...?"
Rising from his bed after being treated by the royal physician sent by the emperor, Sir Derek asked, and Captain Jacob answered gloomily.
"From what His Majesty and Count Corald have deduced, Heltered will be... under His Majesty..."
Unable to finish his sentence, Captain Jacob bowed his head.
After examining the materials found in the third library and those kept in the study of Count Corald, the emperor reached a conclusion.
He would be the last emperor of the Heltered Empire, cursed.
Gathering all the poems left by an unknown bard like puzzle pieces and matching them with the historical events recorded at that time, it became unbelievably true.
What once seemed like a mix of absurd stories turned out to be a chilling prophecy.
And the prophecies written in the poems had all come true until now.
"In one of the bard's poems, there is a story about the three kingdoms that exterminated the Lumen Saviors... two of which closely match the historical facts recorded in the continent's history."
Sir Peter sighed as he spoke.
The bard wrote that the heirs of the two kingdoms would be cursed to turn into monsters, ultimately leading to the downfall of their kingdoms. History recorded that the kingdoms were brought to ruin by their mad heirs.
Once the strongest nations on the continent, the Kingdom of Sekot and the Kingdom of Lingbarod had perished without a trace 200 and 100 years ago, respectively.
The poems also predicted that Heltered, on the brink of its greatest era of prosperity since its founding, would fall into ruin and disappear from the continent forever.
Count Corald, unable to hide his dark expression, spoke quietly as he sat on a chair beside the bed.
"The strongest heirs who were supposed to bring the empire's era of prosperity were cursed. His Highness Crown Prince Ceserus, His Highness Crown Prince Luca, and His Majesty Emperor Maxwell. All three were predicted to be the greatest emperors since the founding of the empire."
Sir Derek asked in a slightly hopeful voice.
"Then, it might not be His Majesty. Like Crown Prince Ceserus and Crown Prince Luca, although cursed, it's not certain that Heltered will fall during His Majesty's reign."
Count Corald shook his head slightly as he answered.
"In the picture depicting the fall of Heltered, the emperor's eyes were red as he turned into a black panther. Just like the eyes of Heltered's first emperor, King Vexteau, who betrayed the princess. The poem says that only one heir with the eye color of Emperor Vexteau will be the last emperor of the Heltered Empire."
Emperor Maxwell was the only one in the Heltered lineage born with the same red eyes as the first emperor.
And one more thing was revealed.
The emperor learned that the kings and heirs of the two cursed kingdoms, as well as the previous two crown princes of the Heltered Empire, all met the same fate.
Count Corald, burying his head in his hands, spoke.
"The curse will become irreversible on the day His Majesty turns twenty-six."
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